An Elven Tragedy
by ladydove7
Summary: Phalen Da'Alan is a warrior of the High Elves. Honor, nobility, pride, these are the things the warriors of the High Elves uphold...but when faced with death, torn, tattered , and alone, Phalen must make a decision...The Dark Elves pursue his death.
1. Death Follows the Prideful

**Descension**

They were fools to come here alone. He tore a path through the brush, the branches and trees slapping into his face, leaving it full of tiny cuts. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his comrade, Lanach, right behind him, yelling at him frantically to move. More stinging branches and briars ripped into his face and hands as he streaked by. The pastel shades of sunset blanched the forest and made way for the darkness that was soon to come. And thus they are fools. They had not planned to face the Dark Elves in their element. They had not planned for night to come upon them so quickly. 

We are all dead fools!! Phalen raged at himself for going along with the war party. Lanach said it would be simple, that it was nothing more than a few young Drow dogs on a training mission. Glory would be theirs, he said. It would be for the glory of the High Elves. And when the twilight came upon them, they were all dead men! Out of fifteen, they had been reduced to six within a matter of moments! Moments!! Phalen and the others had scattered to regroup. He could not tell if any of the others were alive, all except for Lanach, who ran frantically after him. Both of them gleaned through the forest blindly like madmen. 

Lanach staggered. Against all his gut instinct to run, Phalen whipped around and ran towards his friend. Lanach stumbled forward to try and flee once more, but fell down again, tripping over his own feet. Phalen finally reached him and yanked his arm, trying to pull him to his feet. His friend screamed and he felt a light spatter of warmth on his face. Not realizing what it was, he pulled Lanach along a few feet before finally getting a glimpse of two daggers poking out of his back. One jutted out of the rear of his skull, while the other had hit right at the nape of his neck. Phalen cursed and dropped his body to the ground. 

_el t'puuli darthirii!_ He heard the alien language almost right behind him. 

Phalen turned and ran. The pure animal instinct for survival took over as he tore, climbed, tripped, and stumbled his way through the wood, uncaring of what was ahead of him as long as he was away. The blood of his friend felt wet on his face, but it was forgotten as his own blood and sweat mingled on his cheeks. He screamed as white-hot pain shot from his abdomen. He did not stop to see the blade jutting clean through his side. He did not stop to watch the red blood trickle over the pristine blue Elven armor he wore. In front of him the trees parted, opening up to reveal the dwelling place of a waterfall. Outside the chaos of his mind, the waterfall sang beautifully the tinkling melody of water spirits. 

He stood straight up, blood slicking unnoticed at his feet, and looked back. 

_Gaer! udos inbal ukta!_

Phalen was out of options now. The fall alone would probably kill him, but so would the Drow. His mind grew quiet for a moment as his body flew, the white spray of the falls cooling his hot face. 

The water rose, the roar of the falls engulfed his form, and the water consumed him. 

* * * 


	2. The Healer

**_Chapter 2:  The Healer_**

            Liena sighed contently. The twilight was a pleasant one. The breeze was warm with the heavy sent of summer flowers, a fragrance very different from the sweltering smells of dung and grease that permeated the village. That is why she had moved here closer to the woods she felt so tied to. Liana loved them and relished in them. Only rarely did she deal with the villages by making medicinal herbs and embroidered trinkets and goods to sell to the village merchants.  
  
            It was with this endeavor in mind that she was taking a brisk walk in the twilight, breathing in the refreshing breeze. She enjoyed this daily walk through the forest. Not only did it give her time to think, it gave her an opportunity to look for herbs. The traders had warned her though. The woods were no place for a woman, especially with dark elf attacks increasing. The twilight brought their madness upon the outskirts of the village. Every night brought them closer to Brook End's Valley. What were they planning? She did not know, so she focused on the work at hand. Things in the forest would be as they were. The spirits of the forest were all that she needed. The Drow would pass her over. Who would bother a tiny hermit's hollow in the woods? If the villagers called upon her, she would help them.  
  
            A tiny bed of white cloves caught her eye as the brambling voices of the small river caught her ear. The little clovers were flourishing on the river's overflow. Like little stars in the growing night sky, the clovers twinkled against the emerald bank. Liena knelt, pulling her white woven skirts beneath her, and began picking them for the perfume she intended to make and sell the next day.  


            Liena froze. Something was not right. The river babbled louder to her, almost as if it were trying to talk to her. Liena stroked a curly piece of auburn hair behind her ear, her soft lavender eyes searched the river's edge. Nothing but the quiet sounds of dusk nature. The little clover flowers waved in the wind, beckoning towards the east. The night creatures grew softer as she padded slowly towards an old oak tree that grew at the river's edge. It's bark was growing black with the coming darkness of night. The old oak whispered to her silently.  Liena eyed the mushrooms that grew at the tree's front and gathered in a cove at the tree's roots near the brook's edge. She gasped when she saw what lay there.  


            It was the likeness of a man clad in armor, a warrior. The suit of unearthly metal reflected the water's ripples and the stars in the night sky. He looked pale, starlight cast in his white skin. The man's eyes were closed tightly, his mouth lay slackly open, a thin trail of blood winding down his chin. Liena paused. _Some poor soul left by highwaymen in the woods._ She gasped again when she saw his ears. They swept out to pointed tips marking him as a creature she'd only heard stories about as a child. He was an _Elf_.   


            Liena crept slowly around the oak tree's side and closer to the fallen figure. She observed him cautiously. The Elves were not always known to be kind to the human lot. He did not move. She detected nothing from him. When Liena crept further around his side, it was then she noticed the blade peeking from his back. It had pierced the back of the armor, leaving cracks along the reflected starshine. With renewed courage, she knelt beside his figure and put a gentle hand to his chest. Under her palm, she felt the faintest hint of breath escaping his chest. _He was alive!_  


            Upon that realization, she lifted him up with the gentlest of care, draping his arm across her neck. She used all her might to lift him. No matter the lot, elf or man, she was sworn to help anyone in need. As a healer, it was her rite and duty. A small hope for the Elf bloomed in her when he groaned as she raised him. It was a sign of life!

             And now there was no time to waste.

* * *


End file.
